Permanent
by j-cag
Summary: Oneshot. Bobbery, an old sailor living amongst the shadows of the town known as Rogueport. Exactly how deep did his emotions run upon the loss of his beloved wife Scarlette those many years before? And how did he change those many years later?


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Author's Note (Created one-shot on August 7, 2007.)

For some reason or another, while vacationing in Europe, the idea for expounding upon the life of Bobbery just wouldn't stop nagging at the corners of my teenage mind. So, I went ahead and played along with the notion, letting my fingers and thoughts guide me through the creation of this piece. It's the very first one-shot fic I've ever created, so I'm not exactly sure about just how it's supposed to go…but for a first time, I'm quite pleased with the results.

However, I do warn anyone who is serious about detail—I made the entirety of this without the use of any references at all. I had no access to Paper Mario: The Thousand-Year Door, so there may be a few continuity errors or mistakes on my part in the placement of chronological events, and I apologize in advance if there does happen to be any.

Nevertheless, I advise any readers to try and overlook those things, along with grammatical or spelling mistakes (actually, those aren't really forgivable, but hey, everyone makes mistakes). It is devoted to all you people out there who have been devastated over the loss of a loved one at any time in your life, and also, those of you who possibly will find the same feelings entering your mind at any point in the future.

But please, regardless…enjoy.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own the rights to Bobbery, Scarlette, or any of the characters and scenarios in Paper Mario: The Thousand-Year Door. However, some of the filler content not from within the game is entirely provided from me.

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Permanent

A One-Shot Fic

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Our two very names merely uttered aloud together in the same sentence would spark extreme jealousy that was evident in the eyes of Rogueport citizens when the combination reached their ears, the words wrapping around each other in a harmonic lovely amalgamation of pleasance and absolute righteousness…

Scarlette and Bobbery.

Whenever we would take our early morning stroll along the seafront, our fearless attitude and true determination merely to be together would deflect away any malice felt in the hearts of the trademark scum and scoundrels that roamed about the shadows, searching for helpless victims to pick off of. They wouldn't dare lay a hand on us; our burning love was just that great and untouchable to the point where even the thieves showed us respect, stepping aside to allow us passage.

We had it going on that good.

There was no mistake.

We were meant for each other.

For eternity.

Knowing that, we got married to each other without any doubts clouding our young, playful minds. That fateful day where we traded our vows at the altar, in front of all of our friends. They were all so happy for us. Even our most extreme once-lovers couldn't help showing anything but wonder and bliss at what they were seeing. Even your playful older siblings couldn't help but smile at the sight of our long, passionate kiss; the one that had been begging to be revealed to the world for so long as an official dance of togetherness.

That memory…it is so guarded and framed like a work of art. I can remember it like it was just yesterday. I can reminisce about every single detail that you would try to point out about our wedding day with absolutely no problems at all.

The beautifully clear skies.

The cooling light breeze.

Your amazing choice in the color palette.

Scarlet…after your name.

The first time I looked into your angelic face with the knowledge that you were forever mine. Your shimmering eyes… Your shining luster… Your marvelously braided fuse…

I wanted nothing more than to protect it all with everything I had, every ounce of my being. As long as you were my wife, I would never let anything happen to you. Ever. No matter what the circumstances—the difficulties—the potential problems—I would keep you safe from them all. As long as I could wake up every single morning and recall every single feature about you in my head and then compare them to your body at my side, nothing would ever come between us to impede our love.

I loved you that much, and I still do.

But immaturity is such a painful boomerang. How were we to know?

How could it have been that after all those years we spent getting to know each other, the only thing that could stop our charge through life sprang up without warning? How could it have been that after so long, the desire I had tried so hard and succeeded to conceal and force away returned? How could it have been…that it was…all my fault?

You knew it would come back, but you just never told me. I was okay with that; somehow, deep in the most intricate chambers of my heart, I had known it all along.

My secondary passion had broken through the surface to haunt me once more. My unfathomable love…the love for sailing.

Of course, you were okay with it. All those late-night dates in the safe part of town, I had told you how I had never forgotten the first experience aboard a small ship on the high seas with my father. He was a crusty old time-bomb, that man, and in some ways, I guess I retained some of his qualities…finding the perfect woman…and the profound desire to always explore the world around me by water.

You even joined me on those first few voyages out to sea.

Laughing and giggling, I'd hoist you up to the rails of the boat, the rocking making you dangerously close to falling overboard. You'd scream in fright and call for me to pull you back in, and I'd comply within less time than one of my adrenaline-rushed heartbeats. After an awkward silence, you'd comment about how I had just saved your life. We'd share a memorable, hearty chuckle about the experience, joking about it as if it were nothing of importance, and there had never been any danger. It would seem almost like we were once again young children, playfully frolicking about…even though way back when, we didn't even know each other. But still, that feeling was the air of our times.

Do you remember?

When the ever-accumulating count finally toppled over into the twenties, you started to skip every other adventure out into the waves. When it reached the thirties, you only joined me on an occasional trip. When it grasped the mark of over fifty…you stopped coming altogether.

I knew it was just too much for you, coming along with me on haphazardly-scheduled trips out onto the ruffling sheet of blue. Yet, I ignored the shame. I had already gained enough of a small crew to make up for the loss of company, and even more, I was being supported by my second love of sailing.

But of course, my love for you was much more passionate. It was much stronger and undying.

When the ship would leave port, I would always see you expressing a single word: goodbye. You cried a few tears those first few times, but as the years passed us by, you got over the trauma of having to see me leave for a few days. With our relationship so in full-swing, I thought your accompaniments out to the docks would cease with time, the routine set as a pendulum where it would only be a matter of weeks, days even, until I would leave again.

Yet, you were always there to watch me go, your eager face glimmering with the joy for when I would return. Needless to say, I was always grateful.

When the ship would sail into harbor, my first intentions above anything else would always be to seek you out amongst the crowd. I never gave you a time or date for when I would come back, but you always somehow sensed my presence. Full of glee about my arrival, we would rush together and immediately embrace, catching the attention of all who saw us.

We had it going on that good.

A single thought would enter the minds of anyone who saw that love-filled hug.

We were meant for each other.

There was no mistake.

Upon my entrance back into our home, you'd shower me with a feast to which I'd eat, and you'd join in. We'd race to see who could eat the most, and it never turned into a regular welcome-back dinner—the livelihood was kept constant, as if each new set of plates was seeing our first time to encounter the experience. We'd fall into a fast, deep sleep in our chairs that night, and catch up on dishes the next day.

And then we'd walk off all of that fat from our aching bellies, joking around and laughing, having the time of our lives.

The time we spent together whenever I was back in town; it was the only thing I looked forward to whenever my fire for traveling the deep blue canvas was momentarily hushed during a voyage.

The longing to see your face again.

The desire to kiss you and assure you that I was fine.

The next moment where I'd be off once again, with you faithfully standing on the pier, waving and shouting that you'd be there when I came back.

That cycle…it was my life. How foolish was I to think that things could've always been that way? We were getting along in years. But still, was I sincerely that naïve?

Please don't answer that.

I remember that one day when everything changed.

That one day…when you weren't standing there, waiting for me.

Your expectant gaze was absent.

My yearning to see you grew larger.

When the ship docked, I immediately hopped down to the docks. An unlucky storm had made the seas unadvisable, and delayed our expedition by a week's time. Had it really thrown you off that much, was the question I'd asked as I ran to the house. I knew you would understand my tardiness back home.

But when I got there, everything was shattered like a mirror, stricken by a stone.

My life as I knew it fell into a thousand pieces of glass. Reflecting all those memories past. Recounting my foolish thoughtlessness. Showing me the error of my ways.

I was devastated.

The doctors wouldn't even let me see your body. They only hastily gave me a short explanation shortly before allowing me entry into my own house. It had been sprayed with disinfectants; the mixture of usually-calming fragrances clashed with my feelings to conform into a scent that smelled like decomposing trash dug out of the dirty rivers in the underground sewers.

Nothing would ever be the same.

For weeks, our friends visited and tried to get me to cheer up. It didn't help to listen to their comforting words.

For weeks, your remaining family members grieved alongside me. I found no consolation in our simultaneous tears.

For weeks, doctors and psychologists told me to move on with my life, obviously worried about my health. I never listened; they were muted out.

No one could understand the intense pain that my broken heart was experiencing.

It was only on the day of your funeral that I guess I woke up. I don't know what had happened; I guess that up to that point, I was in a lifeless daze. My brain had been hypnotized into thinking that it was only a terrible nightmare, and that I would wake up at any second to find you there once again. It had to be a mistake. I was just being misled by some outside force.

But as I watched your casket get lowered into the ground, somehow, I knew.

You were never coming back.

It hit me like a bullet, tearing apart what ruined pieces of my heart were left into irreparable, irreversible bits that couldn't be glued back together. The jigsaw puzzle was too small now. My vision was too fuzzy, and my eyes were too unseeing for me to even try to attempt piecing what was all still there.

The doctors called it the typical response to the loss of a loved one.

I just didn't understand.

I slipped into a gloomy depression, my emotions completely taking over. I spent weeks on end locked up in our house, forcing away any visitors that tried to come and soothe my violent grieving, and in time, they stopped arriving in their futile efforts to comfort me. Tears that had formed, but never fallen during your burial…I cried and cried them out in a fountain of sorrow in the following days, never leaving the bed that we had once shared, hardly stopping to so much as even look up at the ceiling as I dampened the pillow where I rested my head at night. Eventually, the molecules reached the point of full-absorption. In the darkness, I laid on the bed in a sleepless tremor, wallowing in my own sea of salty tears, a bed of growing water that threatened to consume me…

In time, I realized that all of it truthfully was injurious to me. I only ceased once a day for a bathroom break, and the single meal I ate was hardly anything worth calling food. My once proud seabomb's figure had fallen into a distinctive state of disorder; my whole body had lost its once brilliant black tone, my entire outline was slimming to a dangerous shape abnormal for my species, and my yellow eyes were practically red from all of the aftermath mourning and lack of sleep.

No one could've seen me in that condition.

I'd long since hung up my sailor's cap in a blatant refusal to accept the sport that had once brought me thrills and joy, and in turn, brought about your untimely departure from this world, and my destiny as a river starter; I was too ashamed to try and see what had come about to my crew upon my departure. I could only guess that the entire group had disassembled without their leader…

My trim black hair was thinning where the hat had once kept its rightful position, and I was becoming bald. Apparently, my hours spent in the darkness face up at night were the hours where my hair decided to up and walk away, choosing to rest on the overflowing pillow. What follicles were left had turned an unsightly gray.

Even more horrifying was my facial hair—the moustache that you had so lovingly caressed, complimenting me on it for its handsome luster. The tips were dull and wilting, and the entire piece was whitening at a frighteningly fast pace for my age.

There was no way in the world anyone could know I was doing so badly. Instead of letting people think that I was just holding on and ready to drop off the proverbial cliff into the pit of darkness, I had to improve the way my life was running. I started shopping for myself with the money we had left from the hard work we had done in our business, before my imprudent cravings for sailing had taken over, and you were left to continue making and selling crafts, me only stepping in once in a while to assist as needed. This was only performed in the cover of dusk under the concealment of a disguise, and I only went to the very few grocers that we had not yet met. You made that very hard, with your tendencies to get to know absolutely every single person in existence before you departed this world…

I also bought a calendar, to count the days that I was spending without you. Eventually, a year passed, and I, the sorry mess of Rogueport, was still living in shambles, locked away and oblivious to the rest of my surroundings. My depression was less extreme than before; I was eating better, and I'd obtained back the lost weight until I was back at a respectable figure. I started wearing the cap again to hide my balding head, and I groomed the white moustache covering my mouth to the style that you'd routinely created in remembrance of your loving, soothing touch.

The painful throbbing of my splintered heart had died down to only a nearly-unbearable sting. Instead of wailing in remembrance of you with my face buried against a protesting cushion, I sat out my days at your workbench, brooding in silent thought, my mind wandering from place to place, never stopping to rest on any certain subject. I even managed to go to sleep at night without crying myself into slumber…but the sleep could hardly be called restful, because I could tell by how I woke up just how fitful it had been.

I'm so sorry to have to even say this next statement.

I really am.

But I can't lie to you.

That's been my life for the past forty years now.

Yes, Scarlette…it has been four agonizingly long decades since I've last seen you…but do you watch me from some unseen spot? Has all this gone for naught; have you actually been spying on my every action for all of this time, seeing me grow old and faded?

I can't help but wonder how you feel about this. I really try, dear, I really do.

But no matter how much I've tried, I could never bring myself out of that horrible coma, and I still have yet to make it. You can't blame me…how can I not?

I left you there, alone and helpless.

The distance was what sealed your fate.

I was too far away to keep my promise.

To protect you.

To keep you safe.

I'm so sorry to have failed you…

…Be that as it may, these long, distressing years have given me much more wisdom and intelligence than I could've ever hoped for. If there was a way in which I could travel back in time and use it to prevent what happened to you from happening, I would, but as far as I know, there sadly is none…

Yet, one question has been a painful burden on my mind for all these years. It is one that I absolutely hate to break, and I'm sure you would already be able to tell what it was and readily have an answer for me…but I have to ask it anyway. After all…if you had an answer, you wouldn't have done it in the first place…would you?

Why, oh why, Scarlette…

Why did you leave me?

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Sprawled out atop his bed, an exhausted Admiral Bobbery tried to make the best of his lying-down position, taking in deep breaths and expelling them back out in slow, fluid motions. Only hours ago, the task had been completed, but he had been in a spiraling daze of disbelief. Had it actually been real?

_"Never would I have thought that I, an old sailor Bob-omb reaching the end of my pier, would actually live to see the day that the entire world is in mortal danger from a single threatening magical being…"_

It had been at least half a day since it happened, but to the old man, it seemed like just minutes. He and his traveling party had encountered one of the most destructive forces ever to exist—the Shadow Queen. She was a dangerous, mystical spirit that had been locked away behind a door locked by a magical force for a period of exactly a thousand years, and the spell guarding her prison had been broken, unleashing the full force of her horrific powers.

The entire world had been plunged into a suffocating darkness that blanketed the skies in a terrifying cloak of black, and an undeniably unreal supernatural occurrence had taken place. Grayed, aged hands had reached out from the eternal shadows to attack and pull unlucky souls into the ground, their undead fingers groping around for lives to destroy, malice emanating from their short forms.

_"…Much less would I have ever dreamed that I'd actually have a hand in saving the world from the threat, either…"_

As powerful as she was, the Shadow Queen was not truly invincible, although for a period of time that had seemed like an eternity, it seemed like she was.

However, to fully comprehend the full tale, one would have to know exactly what Bobbery was involved in.

A plumber dressed in modest clothes named Mario had one day arrived inside of his household through his chimney, utilizing some kind of strange curse that allowed him to roll up into a tube. He had come with a nearly-full party of adventurers with one common goal: to find mysterious objects called Crystal Stars that were scattered about the world.

To do so, the group was in need of a sailor that would be able to pilot a ship around the treacherous ocean waters to a small island in the southern seas known as Keelhaul Key, where one of said Crystal Stars was located, according to a magical map. After much searching and studying, the team and its various outside collaborators had all agreed: Bobbery was just the Bob-omb needed to do the job.

Naturally, he had initially refused. His wounds over losing the only thing that had mattered to him in his life were still fresh, although they had been created over forty years prior. His depression and hardened heart had prevented him from showing compassion of any kind to the travelers; he rudely pushed them out and away, vowing that he would never assist them in their quest.

However, it was on that very day that the most unlikely thing had happened.

He'd learned the truth…the truth about his wife, Scarlette, and her untimely death.

The truth that unveiled to him that it wasn't his fault.

The truth that told him to quit blaming himself.

The truth that wanted him to go back out on the seas.

And, although it wasn't explicitly written on paper…

The truth in between the lines…

The truth…that there was still love.

With the stunning revelation that had been brought to him in the form of a handwritten letter, Bobbery's cold demeanor melted, and he had wholeheartedly thrust himself into the world of the heroes. Without any second thoughts, he agreed to join the quest as the pilot of the ship.

But, as the laws of nature always stated, there were always setbacks possible…and when they were possible, they happened.

A highly destructive storm had caught the vessel off guard, wrecking it in the middle of the voyage. What was even odder was that the storm was one of fire—ghoulish spirits that were ablaze with flames had brutally attacked the craft, causing it to break into pieces and plummet into the depths of the ocean.

Somehow, all of Mario's accomplices and the rest of the crew had been brought to safety on none other than the infamous island that they'd been headed towards. All except for a small group that included Bobbery.

After waking from the traumatic experience, the Bob-omb was unlucky enough to find that he was stranded out in the middle of the jungles of Keelhaul Key. While questing towards a shore in an attempt to find help, he located one of the other Toad sailors that hadn't been accounted for by the rest of the sailing crew.

During their journey through the dense tropical forest, they had been so ill-fated as to encounter another one of the hostile fiery spirits.

With the last of his strength, Bobbery protected the defenseless Toad. However, it wasn't enough—he was vanquished in battle.

Then, the reinforcements arrived.

Mario and his group of travelers defeated the flame, allowing them to head over to assess the damage.

Thinking he was on his deathbed, Bobbery's mind was somehow diluted enough to make him ask for a bottle of Chuckola Cola for one last drink before he was ready to join Scarlette…wherever she was.

However, ironically, after drinking the only bottle full of the soda that was left on the island, he was concluded to be all right and very well alive.

He was old, but there was no question about it.

He was still worthy of life.

Knowing that he could prove useful with his abilities, Bobbery officially joined Mario's band of voyagers on their quest. They ventured through the perfidious caverns of Pirate's Grotto all the way to its depths. After saving a shipwrecked group of sailors, they found what they had been looking for. A Crystal Star.

Unfortunately, it was amongst the treasures of an old pirate spirit named Cortez, who was not exactly happy to find that there were mortals attempting to steal his riches. Misinformed about the group's true intentions, he'd attacked with his three magical bony forms in a magnificent battle.

Impressively, Mario had tricks of his own. The other Crystal Stars that he'd already collected had powers that gave him strong attacks in battle that covered up for his lack of size and inhuman strength. Those, combined with the abilities of his team, Bobbery's own explosive powers included, were able to soothe the savage soul enough to convince him of their objective. He willingly let go of the single jewel.

However, one of the sailors that had been onboard the ship unveiled another secret. He was actually Lord Crump, an undercover agent from a world-takeover organization known as the X-Nauts, there to steal away the Crystal Star.

As expected, Mario's squad was forced to stop his band of X-Nauts and retrieve the stolen fifth Crystal Star. Only then was that chapter of the journey complete.

From there, Bobbery accompanied Mario's team as it ventured to gather the rest of the seven Crystal Stars still remaining out in the open.

Three exciting, mystery-filled days aboard a train that ended in a maddening battle against a miasma of small creatures fulfilled another leg of the quest when the group discovered the sixth Crystal Star in a secret room of the Poshley Sanctum.

An endeavor led out into the middle of a snow-filled tundra, where the panel was then fired off to one of the most unlikely places by a cannon. The Moon. The party had to recover the seventh and final Crystal Star from within the X-Naut Fortress.

Only then was it discovered what was actually behind the door that the seven stars would unlock. Misled and tricked into accidentally opening the entryway, the assemblage unintentionally set free the evil of the Shadow Queen, who was finally free from her thousand-year containment in the depths of the Shadow Palace.

Following Mario's blatant refusal to be her servant, the Shadow Queen, inside the body of one of Mario's close acquaintances named Princess Peach, attacked the squadron in a mad rage in which she threw everything she had.

Logically, like all the others, she succumbed to the combined forces of teamwork that the party exhibited.

But, she wasn't done. She took on her regular form, seemingly invincible. Although they fought their hardest, the eight were unable to defeat the new menace, and one by one, were defeated until only Mario remained standing.

Somehow, Peach weakened the Shadow Queen's defenses, and with the help of cheering and support from the remaining hopeful people around the world, the group was completely healed of its wounds, and continued the fierce battle.

In the end, they finally did it.

It was done.

The Shadow Queen was trounced in a bravura clash of opposing forces, and banished away to who-knows-where.

All of the trapped people had been set free.

Celebrating in glee, the group had paraded out of the Shadow Palace.

It was like a fairy tale put in motion.

They'd just saved the world—an amazing feat in itself.

Regrettably, shortly afterwards, Mario and Peach were urged to leave along with their accompanying visitor, Toadsworth, and together, the trio had set sail back for their home residence across the ocean.

And that was what had truly opened Bobbery's eyes all the way.

The sight of another boat.

Eventually, after a while of excited merriment, the seven remaining members went their separate ways, back to the lives that they had readily left, knowing that there had been a possibility that things would never be the same. Now that the danger was gone, they were all free to do as they pleased, chasing after dreams and wishes once more.

The studious U Goom graduate Goombella returned to bunk with her former mentor, Professor Frankly, to investigate further the treasures of the recently uncovered palace.

The previously cowardly Koops went back to his life in Petalburg, full of a desperate longing to see the face of his beloved girlfriend once again.

The dramatic former actress Flurrie made a promise to appear once again on the big screen and headed back to her home as a recluse in the middle of the woods.

The young, but tenacious Yoshi decided on going back to his hatching place of Glitzville and entering the fighting circuits where he felt most at home.

The quiet, lovely Vivian, desiring to see her sisters again, quested out to seek the familiarity of her family, in spite of the fact they'd aligned with evil for a period of time.

The flirtatious treasure hunter Ms. Mowz inexplicably disappeared over the rooftops to uncover more secret riches and jewels all around the world.

That left Bobbery to go back to his humble home in Rogueport.

_"In a way, Scarlette, I see a little bit of you in every single one of those people I met and had to leave just hours ago…_

_"Your ever-inquisitive, have-to-know attitude…_

_"Your hesitance towards questionable things…_

_"Your dramatic, overblown presence in my life…_

_"Your stubbornness and resolute stance…_

_"Your quiet but fierce intensity…_

_"Your desire to hunt down the unknown…_

_"And your heroic attitude and unyielding standpoint to never give up…your optimism even breaking through the bleakest of times."_

Turning over on the cushioned surface, the aged Bob-omb's eyes came to a rest on the picture frame centered on the top of the desk. In its very core was tenderly placed the photograph of none other than his deceased wife, Scarlette. Although it had been dusty and worn from being hidden away into the depths of a locked cabinet, with the help of a little patience and loving touch, Bobbery had restored it back to its former glory.

Orbs completely planted on the portrait the whole time, the sailor pushed himself up and let his feet dangle on the edge of the bed.

_"You know, Scarlette…I was extremely fortunate to have met all of those people, just as I was to meet you. Now, everywhere I look, I find a part of you embedded within the demeanor of every single person I encounter…it's such a glorious feeling. I hope I can see them all again someday, too…with Goombella it's definite since she's right down the street, but for the others, it is quite uncertain as to the next time we might meet…_

_"…Well, I take that back. If not on this world, we will all meet again someday, right? In the place where you wait for me to come join you at this very moment?"_

Standing up, Bobbery walked over to the bedroom door and pushed it open. He quietly made his way to the refrigerator before pulling the refrigerator cover free of its wedge.

_"How ironic is it that it has taken me forty long years to realize it, Scarlette? If I know you, you're up there right now, chuckling and shaking your head at my silliness…"_

After looking around a bit, the Bob-omb reached in and pulled out a bottle of Chuckola Cola. Then, he gently closed the fridge door and went to go sit down at the table.

_"I can't believe it took so long, too…if only I'd recognized the truth earlier, I would've saved myself of so much grief…"_

He could just barely feel the sensation of a single wet drop of salty water make its way out from the originating point of his eyes and roll down his face, coming to a stop as it dampened his moustache. Soon afterwards, several others started to follow it. Bobbery made no effort to stop them from falling, instead enjoying the comforting, memorable impression they provided the hard surface of his body.

_"…I hope that no person ever has to go through life without ever knowing the knowledge that I have finally found…without it, I couldn't imagine how it would be possible to keep going on…"_

Twisting open the cap, Bobbery listened to the hissing spray as the fizzing liquid's gas escaped through the previously tightly closed lid of the thin glass container.

_"…Scarlette, my dear… I'm so fortunate to have had the pleasure of knowing you. Your love…it lasts forever. I know that now…"_

Leaning back in his chair, the Bob-omb opened his mouth wide as he took a large swig of the refreshing cola, feeling the rush of the cold liquid breeze through his mouth and tickle his taste buds and tongue. In only a matter of seconds, he had completely drained the bottle of its contents.

_"…At least your love lasts forever…unlike a bottle of Chuckola Cola."_

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Author's Note

I really can't help but shake the feeling that for some reason, I've seen that type of ending before. I really am sorry if it steals away from the story of anyone on or from an ending of a tale from any actual authors, for it must be an oppressed memory…I don't recall where I've seen that type of ending before, but I know I have. I'm so sorry if it seems like theft in any way, but I don't remember where I could've gotten it from…it just seemed fitting to avoid keeping such a bittersweet edge and add a small sprinkle of attempted humor at the end (although that might've been a bad idea, too).

Hope you enjoyed this…it was fun becoming emotional in the first-person view of Bobbery. I don't know the last time where I've actually role-played so seriously before (I don't on a normal basis), but it felt really interesting. If anyone doesn't understand how the flow of the story went, here's how it is.

The first section of the tale is a recount in first-person from Bobbery on the events that led up to his sadness and despair, secretly intended to be on the night right before Mario and company visit with Scarlette's letter. The last part of it most likely didn't come into much of a play, though. Entirely completed on Friday, July 27, 2007.

The second half is a late-night scene after Bobbery returns back to his house in Rogueport using third person (I think) and a know-all narrator's account. Entirely completed on Thursday, August 2, 2007.

I realize that there must be some flaws in there…if it's the style I used…point of view…failure to communicate emotions… Any of those…I apologize. But all in all, this was a really enjoyable fanfic to create, and I thank the readers for reading.

This is _milesyoshidino34_, out.


End file.
